Can you see me?
by CindyBaby
Summary: One day he just found himself running.


**This story came to me with my morning coffee, and I grabbed onto it with both hands. Great feeling to be inspired, even if it's just by coffee. **

**I don't own four brothers, or the song which is "I'm in here" by Sia.**

_I'm in here, can anybody see me?_

_Can anybody help?_

_I'm in here, a prisoner of history,_

_can anybody help?_

Somewhere between his second and third fosterhome he found himself on the streets. It wasn't exactly a choice he'd made, one day he just found himself running, running as fast as he'd ever done and he didn't stop until he fell straight into a wall, exhausted. He was scared, tired and hungry and he stayed in that exact spot for a whole day, too terrified to move. He'd pulled his legs up tight, and the only part of him that moved were his eyes, darting around him, chasing shadows, trying to see if they would hurt him.

The second day he ventured out a little, not far, but he changed his spot to a nearby dumpster. In it he found enough to make for a small shelter next to it. He fixed it up and settled down again, trying to ignore the hunger that was gnawing at his stomach. There hadn't been any food in the dumpster, and he was starving. He couldn't remember when he'd eaten last. He tried not to think about it, tried to focus on other things, like watching the shadows move.

On the third day one of the shadows crept closer, and he froze, the fear making his heart beat faster and faster until it was in danger of leaping out of his chest. A man stopped in front of him, and he willed his body to move, to run like he'd done before, but wheter it was because he was tired and hungry, or if he just couldn't run anymore, he couldn't move. The man reached out of hand, and he pressed himself back against the wall as hard as he could, his eyes drifted down to his hand and what looked a lot like a sandwitch. He looked up again, eyes getting stuck on the unknown man's lips, they were moving, but his heartbeat drowned out the words. The man reached out again, a bit impatiently, and he pressed his back even harder againts the wall in response eyes widening. He was mad, he could tell. Then with an impatient sigh the man left, taking the sandwitch with him.

Jack spent the rest of that day cursing himself as his stomach grumbled even louder than before.

...

He was small, but that wasn't always bad. He could easily sneak into dumpsters and garbage bags and find food, and he learned to do so pretty quickly after those first few days. After a while he even dared leave his shelter for more than a few hours. He found a few spots he liked on the streets and he sat there during the day, watching people pass him by. The street was full of other homeless people, some old, some younger. It didn't really matter which age you were. You'd think that people would care more if it was a child sitting there, begging for money, but they didn't really. Well some did, they dropped a few coins without meeting his eyes. That was fine, he didn't want to look them in the eye anyway, he didn't know what he would see.

...

As the weeks passed so did the people. He wondered where they were going, if they were really in such a hurry or if they just didn't want to look at him. He didn't blame them, he didn't want to look at himself either. He was used to the non caring, so it didn't phase him much. He knew enough about the world to know that if you were keeping yourself afloat there was no need to bother with anything else. And he already knew that not everyone was important.

...

He was tougher now, or at least he'd like to think he were, that was why it was hard that one day. He was sitting in one of his places on the street, having gotten a few extra dollars this day and he was happy. Maybe not happy, but hopeful that this day would be pretty good, and then he saw them. Two girls, probably in their late twenties, walking side by side down the street, talking quietly. He knew they'd seen him, and one of them met his eyes and he could almost see the pity there as she started digging around in her purse, for money he guessed, when the other girl whispered to her, loud enough that he could hear.

"You do know that he's probably a junkie right? You shouldn't support addictions like that you know, it's not helping them anyway".

The other girl stopped what she was doing for a second before continuing her search, finding a few coins. "Not everyone is"

"Well if they aren't then it's probably criminals taking the money anyway so..."

The girl seemed to hesitate but then she dropped the money in the paper cup in front of him, she tried to meet his eyes he could feel it, but his had dropped at the first words about him being a junkie. They quickly left, but he didn't dare look up until he was sure they were long gone. The shame burned through him. He wasn't a junkie, but the girls words had hurt him for some reason. He didn't know why. Was it because they saw him like that? Or was it because they saw him at all?

Other people passed him, most of them ignoring him, and for the first time he resented them for it. He wanted to scream at them to look at him, see him, but he didn't dare, cause he didn't really want to be seen. So easy for them to tell themself that he was a junkie, that the money wasn't for him, that he was conning them. So easy to fool themselves just so they didn't have to feel bad going to sleep at night.

At the end of the day he'd gotten enough money for a sandwitch and soda, with some to spare too. He toyed with the idea of not using the money from the girl, but in the end hunger won over shame. He couldn't afford shame, it was way to expensive.

Later that night he was laying curled up behind his shelter tracing the bricks on the wall. He wasn't angry anymore, he was just tired, and he felt bad for not being grateful to the girl. She'd given him money afterall, no matter the reason. It shouldn't matter what people thought about him.

But it did.

_Can't you hear my call?  
Are you coming to get me now?  
_

_I've been waiting for,  
You to come rescue me,  
_

_I need you to hold,  
All of the sadness I can not,  
_

_Living inside of me.  
_


End file.
